Page 25 of Ravaged By a Devil

She barely looks up from the stove, waving her wooden spoon at me with a warm chuckle. "Go on, sweetheart. Do what you need to do. Don't worry about me."

I walk over, press a tender kiss against her soft cheek, and hurry out the front door, locking it tight behind me.

As I walk down the front steps, the rear door of the sedan swings open. A tall, well-dressed man in a sharp black suit steps out, giving me a polite, respectful nod as he holds the door open.

"Miss Hayes," he says quietly.

"Thank you," I murmur, taking a leap of faith as I slide into the backseat. The leather is butter-soft, smelling faintly of expensive cologne and clean rain.

The door shuts with a muffled thud, and the driver smoothly pulls away from the curb, carrying me straight into the lion's den.

Soon, the car glides through a set of massive iron gates, pulling up a long, winding driveway before coming to a smooth stop.

I look out the window, taking in the house. It's a striking, modern, two-story residence with clean, sharp architectural lines, dark steel framing, and floor-to-ceiling glass panels reflecting the afternoon light. It looks more like a fortress than a home.

The driver holds the door open, and I step out onto the smooth driveway. Inside, the house is staggering in size, but surprisingly sparse.

The high ceilings and polished concrete floors echo with an eerie stillness. The neutral furniture and bare walls give the space a cold, impersonal feel—like a luxury hotel suite where no one actually lives.

Cain is standing near the center of the vast living room, his broad silhouette framed by the massive windows behind him.

He catches my eye and gives a curt nod. "Follow me."

He turns and leads me up a floating open staircase, his boots making minimal sound against the steps. We walk down a silent upper hallway and step into a massive, minimalist office dominated by a dark mahogany desk.

Before I can take in the rest of the room, Cain steps to the side, pointing a long finger toward the center of the desk. "Look."

I walk over, my breath hitching in my throat. Spread out across the dark wood is an overwhelming mountain of paper—surveillance photos, printed medical sheets, map printouts, and thick Manila folders marked with my name.

I reach out, my fingers trembling as I pick up a glossy photo. It's an aerial shot of my front porch, taken from across the street. Beside it sits another image of Milly sitting on our porch swing, completely unaware of the lens pointed at her.

My heart slams violently against my ribs, making me dizzy. I scramble through the next stack—detailed logs of my shift times at The Blackwood, exact routes I take home, and a printed schedule listing every single upcoming appointment Milly has with her specialist, right down to the exact time slot we have booked for this evening.

"Oh, God," I whisper, the air rushing out of my lungs as pure terror grips my chest. I stumble back a half-step, clutching the edge of the desk to keep my legs from giving out. "He... he knows everything. He has her schedule. He knows my home..."

My eyes flit up from the desk, and my breath hitches in my throat. Tacked across a dark corkboard near the window are dozens of photos of me.

Me leaving The Blackwood late at night. Me pulling my hair up into a clip behind the bar. Me laughing with a customer.

"Did Nolan take those too?" I ask, my voice shaking, though a sickening knot in my gut tells me the answer before he even speaks.

Cain steps closer, his shadow falling across the desk. "No," he says, his voice low and utterly unbothered. "Those are mine."

Pure, hot fury flares through the terror in my chest. "You've been spying on me too? Building a damn file on me?" I slam my hand against the mahogany surface. "You’re no better than Nolan!"

"At first, I watched you because I thought you worked with Nolan," Cain replies, holding my glaring gaze without flinching. “And after…”

"And after?" I demand, my chest heaving. "After you found out I didn’t?"

"I kept watching."

"Why?"

Cain takes one slow step toward me, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that feels like a physical touch. "Because I like watching you, Alexis."

My heart skips a violent beat, dropping straight into my stomach. A sudden, traitorous flush of heat creeps up my neck, burning my cheeks under his heavy, possessive gaze. I force myself to look away, swallowing down the sudden lump in my throat.

"Why did you bring me here?" I whisper, my voice suddenly small. "Why show me all of Nolan's files?"